


Fragrance

by Siberia_M



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Actually potion use, Drug Use, F/M, First Time, Head Boy Tom Riddle, Head Girl Hermione Granger, Kinky, Masturbation, Obsession, Possessive Behavior, Potion Kink, Potion/Drug addiction, Smut, Time Travel, Time travel not explored much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 08:48:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16950807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siberia_M/pseuds/Siberia_M
Summary: Perfect Head boy Tom Riddle is asked to brew Amortentia for Professor Slughorn's next class. He never imagined he would feel a fragrance on the potion's vapors, nor he thought he would turn quite addicted to it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crochetaway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crochetaway/gifts).



> This turned out to be kinkier than I had originally planned lol It's a story I may continue, but for now I decided to stop where I did. Hope it came up to my secret Santa expactations <3 as well as hope all readers enjoy!
> 
> Happy Christmas, everyone! Much Tomione for us \o/

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Take a shot for everytime "Amortentia" is mentioned on this chapter :V loool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much fun participating of this exchange! Thank you WildKitsune for organizing this Tomionish Secret Santa!!

“Tom, m’boy! Thank you for coming so quickly” Slughorn beamed as he slid his chair back, producing an annoying noise that made Tom’s jaw twitch, and stood up.

“Of course, Sir. No need to mention it”

“Come in, come in!” The professor urged, motioning with his hand and pulling a chair back for his student “Make yourself comfortable!”

Tom calmly closed the door behind him and made his way to the desk. He sighed inwardly, wondering if Slughorn would keep him with his useless stories as he always did. How annoying they were. Granted the man has been an important source of information and defense against Dumbledore, but still.

The mask he wore was hard to keep on place sometimes.

“Now, I know that you are quite busy with this school start, Tom” The man wiggled his eyebrows “Head boy! I had no doubt it would be you!” He laughed heartily and proudly “But I need to ask a favor. I need a potion brewed for tomorrow’s sixth year class”

He paused and leaned forward on the table, his eyes widening, like he was about to tell an important secret.

“The thing is: A dear friend of mine invited me to a junction at his house. He owled me this morning, so I could not prepare the potion sooner. Would you be so kind to brew it for me?”

His smile was completely dorky. Tom almost rolled his eyes.

“Of course” He answered simply, in a rush to just do the deed and leave “What potion is it that you need, Sir?”

“Amortentia!” Tom’s eye twitched, Slughorn seemed not to notice and smiled brightly “I thank you so much, Tom! You really are a magnificent young gentleman! The door to the stock will be open to you for the evening.”

 The professor reached for the wand resting beside his hands on the desk and flicked his wrist. A parchment appeared out of thin air in front of Tom.

 “I’m sure you’d have no trouble finding it, but here is the recipe for the potion,” He winked, Tom blinked unaffected “With my own twists in ingredients here and there” Slughorn took a look on his watch and whistled “Well, I must be on my way now. Thank you again, m’boy!”

Tom watched as the he hurriedly grabbed his coat and left the room, the door closing with a silent noise. He sighed and stood up from the chair, then headed to the adjacent door that led to Slughorn’s personal lab.

*w*

His dark orbs were fixed on the cauldron as he stirred the concoction being produced. The bubbling noise of the potion filled the room, echoing through the humid stone walls of the dungeon.

_Now, the crushed moonstone_

He frowned as he reached the ingredient and let the silvery powder fall into the blood red liquid on the cauldron. Giving two stirs clockwise, the substance turned maroon. His ebony eyes flashed as the steam started to gather and twist above the cauldron. Now he had to wait five minutes to add the final ingredient. Narrowing his eyes, he sat on the high stool and stared thoughtfully at the fire ahead of him.

This potion. He despised it.

Its function was so disgusting. To recur to a potion, a potion which imitated _love_ \- he cringed - to gain the favor of another. He thought about how weak the despicable individuals who relied on this potion must be.

Then again, his mother had used it on his father.

Pitiful woman, staining the blood of the descendants of Slytherin. Was it not enough for her to submit herself to a muggle? Dishonor. Weakness. He sometimes wondered what would happen to her if she lived through his birth, what kind of humiliation he would have to endure.

Tom blinked, brought back from his thoughts as the charmed illuminated numbers above the workbench glowed bright red when the timer reached zero. He stood up stiffly.

Salazar, he wondered why they even taught the students how to brew this abomination.

Grabbing a wooden board with the pearl dust, he pushed the powder into the concoction with the help of a knife. He watched impassively as he set the board aside and stirred, the liquid turning a pinkish mother-of-pearl. Perfection.

Satisfied, he took the stirring stick out of the cauldron and, as he let the potion heating for a couple more minutes, he made to recollect the instruments he used.

His hand froze on the way.

Tom turned to the cauldron; eyes widened; nostrils flared. The steam of the potion innocently raised spirally, emanating a rich scent of cinnamon.

That was impossible.

Amortentia _never_ exhaled any scent to him. Why would he smell something now, it was-

He let out a low gasp.

The scent slowly mixed with another, making Tom take a step forward without realizing it. It smelled like firewood, as if he was lounging in front of a warm fireplace. He stared transfixed at the pearl like potion. He inhaled deeply, a shiver running up his spine, the steam swirling with his motion and invading his airway. The final scent was of fresh parchment.

It stunned him how alluring the scents were. It seemed to fill his lungs, spreading to his body and turning it to flames in his veins. It made him crave for its source, it made him want to bathe in the fragrance.

Tom shook his head. He had been staring at the cauldron with mouth open, like a hungry dog. What _the hell_ was wrong with him?

With haste, he poured the potion into two empty flasks, holding his breath for as long as he could whilst doing so. His head spun when he couldn’t help but inhale at the last drops falling into the glass, the cinnamon seeming to cling to his chest. Never before he corked a vial so quickly.

With a wave of his wand, he sent the instruments to the washbasin and charmed so they would wash themselves. He grabbed the two flasks like it would burn him and swiftly placed them on the professor’s desk. The pearl-pink of the potion was beautiful encased behind the glass of the vials, but haunted Tom as he stared at it thoughtfully.

He turned aside and proceeded to gather his things to leave.

*-*

The scent still filled his senses even as he ascended the stairs to the heads’ dormitory. He frowned in annoyance the entire way, his owns steps reaching his ears as the only person on the hall.

“ _Incendio_ ”

Tom spelled to the gargoyle that guarded the dormitory, much like the one to the headmaster’s room. He stepped into the dark corridor and the door shut heavily behind him. A bright light shone further into the common room, illuminating the dark walls. The fireplace was lit up.

He had every intention of following up blindly to the short path of stairs to his room, but he stopped in the middle, eyes widened and nostrils flared once again.

_Merlin’s beard_

“Riddle…good evening…?”

His eyes snapped up and aside. The bushy haired girl eyed him with a puzzled expression. She was lounging on the couch, legs resting sideways and torso and arms resting lazily on the arm of the couch. The book on her hands had a green cover with golden letters; she held it softly away from her face as she stared at him. He supposed he had been standing there a good five minutes without moving, hence her alarmed stance.

Tom swallowed and nodded dryly “Evening, Granger”

He made his way upstairs swiftly and shut the door behind him. Distressed, he threw his shoulder bag aside and headed to his private bathroom. Immediately, he turned the faucet open and leaned forward, splashing his face with cold water. He repeated the action twice, then turned the water off and propped his arms on the granite counter in front of the sink. His ebony fringe, dripping wet, fell on his eyes and molded to his forehead. He breathed deeply.

Why did _she_ smell just like the potion?

*w*

Scratch that, she smelled even better than the potion.

Tom sat beside her at the reunion between prefects and heads that afternoon. He had tried to avoid her all day, but now he was obligated to sit beside her at the little gathering. His eyes were glued to the Ravenclaw prefect who was speaking. It was something about the rounds, although he honestly could not concentrate on what the boy was saying.

His eye twitched when she shifted beside him. The voice of his classmate only like a muffled humming on the background. To say he was annoyed was an understatement. She seemed to exhale the fragrances of his Amortentia of yesterday, making, in turn, his blood run faster and his body to perk up. He still asked himself why she smelled like a love potion was just beside him – more importantly why did it affect him so.

Just a year back, at his sixth year, he brewed the potion. He had been disgusted, of course, as Slughorn announced the class subject, but the process of production had been much the same of the day before – with the exception that Nott and Black had been “helping” him that day. The big difference is that he smelled nothing. Felt nothing. He supposed it was just fair; he was not one for love.

That indeed was an alien conception to him. He did not feel capable of love. He did not think he was even capable of being allured by another person. His only lust was after power. In his school years, he had his fair share of admirers. His good looks, intelligence and chivalrous ways granted him the frequent attention of the opposite sex, he could admit to himself. To their misfortune, however, he always turned down the bold ones who confronted him to confess their interest over the years.

He felt nothing, as with the potion.

Not when they looked at him with big, desire-filled orbs. Not when they ate him with their eyes over the classes. Not when they threw themselves over at him. He didn’t feel anything. Actually, he did feel something. Disgust. He felt revolted that insignificant beings like them could even think they could win him over with good looks and grabby hands. He wished their hands would turn to ash when they so much as touch a finger on him.

Maybe he could create a charm to that.

There was just one time that he retaliated against their advances and that was when one of them, a Hufflepuff, tried to put a love potion on his juice. He smirked to himself. The girl’s expression of panic every time she sees him until now is delightful. _Crucio_ and _Obliviate_ are a good combination to get rid of annoying cockroaches.

That was the main reason why he did not understand how the love potion exhaled anything and why it was Hermione Granger, of all people, to happen to be the one matching its fragrance. He barely spoke to the girl in this year she had been transferred to Hogwarts. She was smart, he could give her that, with grades that almost matched his own completely. It was no wonder to him that she became head girl. He could, also, admit that he had been surprised to see her in action in the duel classes. Still, nothing that wrapped his interest… that much.

He cringed when cinnamon hit his olfactory cells in a wave when the girl beside him brushed her hair aside do her shoulder. _That_ was getting to his nerves. Hopefully that would stop soon. He imagined he was that affected by the scent because he was exposed to the vapor of Amortentia recently.

There was nothing to worry about.

*w*

There was definitely something to worry about.

Why the smell, although faint, still emanated from her a week after he breathed the love potion he produced was beyond him. He sat by his desk on his room, elbows propped on it surface and chin resting atop his joined hands. It was absurd.

Really she must have thrown some kind of spell on him…

His eyes widened. He groaned, head falling back in realization. That was it! It was so obvious! She must have put a love potion on his drink sometime that week. Granted, not an Amortentia, because he was no acting like a bloody duckling around her, but something weaker surely.

He straightened again, his eye twitched. _Oh, boy,_ that girl was in for trouble. How dare she? He would confront her in that exact moment.

He stood up and trotted down the stairs. As she always did by the evenings – _Salazar, why did he know that?_ \- She was lounging on the couch reading, calm and distracted, she didn’t even notice him in the room. The cinnamon scent, becoming thicker, burned his nostrils and provoked a shiver on his spine, annoying him further. His eyes flashed in rage for a second, but he let himself cool down and smiled cynically, before turning his ebony orbs to her and clearing his throat.

She perked up instantly at that, looking much like a deer caught in the light of a _Lumos_ at night. Her eyes locked on his, wide and astounded for a moment, the look falling to give place to a confused expression.

“…Yes?” The girl asked, lowering her book softly.

His head tilted slightly and he smiled further.

“Good evening, Miss Granger” He used his best charming tone “May I join you?” He motioned the lounge with a hand.

She seemed baffled for a moment, her mouth opening and closing twice.

“Why?” Came the guarded response.

Tom flinched slightly. He was not expecting that.

“Why, well, I thought I could use some chat with my fellow head student” 

The girl frowned. She seemed suspicious about him and he honestly wondered why. Wasn’t she the one who “poisoned” him? She took some moments to answer, licked her lips, a movement he unconsciously followed with his eyes, and answered.

“If that’s the case, be my guest”

Her tone did not seem that inviting, but he nodded anyways, still with his charming smile on place and sat himself upon the sofa she was lounging. She flinched at his proximity to her feet, which were upon the seat, and brought them a little closer to her. Tom raised an eyebrow and relaxed back, resting an arm on the arm of the couch and another on its back.

As annoyed as he was, her scent was positively delicious at that distance, he had to admit. He took the time to observe her from so close. Her thin, elegant neck had a golden necklace with a golden snitch pendant. Her plump bottom lip was softly caught between her teeth. Her nose, delicate and slightly curved upwards, had it nostrils flared, like a cautious animal. Finally, her honeyed chestnut eyes, narrowed and watching him carefully back.

Strange. He would have thought a girl infatuated by him would show desire or at least bashfulness around him. She looked more as if she would like to pounce him. Not to snog, but to strangle him…

“Hadn’t you said you’d like to talk?” Her voice made him focus his attention on it in stance of on her appearance “I thought to do that people must speak, or was I mistaken?”

He couldn’t help but smirk. Sassy. No wonder she was a Gryffindor.

“There are many ways to communicate, Miss Granger,” A sensation in his gut coaxed him to answer “Or aren’t you acquainted with body language?” He smiled slyly at the soft red that tinged her cheeks.

“I read about it, yes” She replied quickly, recoiling back a little, annoyed “But I think it’s more of an intimate conversation”

“Is that so?” He chuckled lightly, then leaned his temple on the hand at the back of the couch, eyes like a hawk’s. She huffed and threw him an insulted look.

“I meant _self_ kind of intimate”

He was truly amused to watch as she rolled her eyes “I never said otherwise”

Obviously she noticed his debauched tone and narrowed her eyes sourly “What was it that you wanted again? Because I will retire to my room shortly”

His lips curved in a small, false smile “Relax, Hermione” She seemed to cringe at his call of her first name “I only wanted to get to know you. We never really spoke much”

She raised an eyebrow “Why start now, _Riddle_?”

Tom’s smile fell a little, irritated that she continuously contradicted his advances “We are room partners now, are we not? Might as well get along”

Hermione eyed him up and down for a moment.

“…Fair enough” Still not convinced, it seemed. Why was she so wary of him?

“So, what subjects are you interested in?” Tom asked casually, rearranging himself on the couch.

She sent him an incredulous look. He shrugged.

“I suppose I could say charms, care of magical creatures and ancient runes are my favorite ones” Hermione replied unenthusiastically.

“Not one for potions, then?” He wondered, his mouth quirking innocently. He ran a hand through his hair and noticed she followed the movement with her eyes.

“I do enjoy potions, but it’s not my favorite topic” She had let her book down by now and had crossed her arms defensively.

“Do you brew some potions now and then?” At her raise of eyebrow he shrugged once more “Slughorn leans me his lab sometimes. He asked me to brew a potion for him one of these days. You’re in his club as well, so I thought maybe he use to do the same to you.”

Her legs shifted, he took the moment to observe how delicate her heels seemed.

“What potion did you brew?” She spoke, resting her head on her hand as she propped her elbow on the back of the sofa, much like him.

Tom smiled mischievously, mostly because he was getting into the topic to get her red handed.

“Amortentia” He answered in a breathy tone.

She furrowed her eyebrows and recoiled some more, looking down to her other hand on her lap “…Oh”

“Have you smelt it?” Tom asked, sliding closer to her.

“What?” Her eyes snapped up back to his.

Tom chuckled “The fragrance of Amortentia”

She shook her head at him in annoyance, mouth bent “Of course I did, we had to brew it last year”

His eyes flashed “What did you smell?”

She looked at him with a stone expression on her face “That is a very personal question, don’t you think?”

His eyebrows raised and he looked aside, feigning indifference “Perhaps” He returned his gaze to her “Wouldn’t you like to know what I smelt?”

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows, looking truly confused “You smelt something on Amortentia?”

An alarm triggered on his mind. His head tilted and he raised an eyebrow at her “Why would I not?”

A second alarm ringed when she seemed to panic for a flick of second. She shifted and scratched the nape of her neck, crouched against the back of the sofa.

“Well… you don’t seem the type of guy who pays much attention to girls, so…” She replied, tensely, he noticed “I just thought you weren’t interested in anyone as to feel their scent on the potion”

Something definitely seemed off about her attitude and it was not just about how he was certain she had tinged his drink with a love potion. She was a terrible liar, her excuse was just awful. Why did she think that he would not smell anything on the concoction, however, was a mystery, one which distressed him slightly and that he intended to uncover.

However, first things first. He was about to catch this one fish before.

He chuckled internally, a wide grin curled his lips. She was so getting wrapped on her own web now.

“So, you do pay attention to what _I_ pay attention to or not, _Hermione_?” Tom purred teasingly.

He delighted in the way she blushed fervently and huffed.

“I do not!” She exclaimed outraged “It’s plainly obvious, just that” He noticed she rolled her eyes slightly “Twice a week there is a girl getting dumped by you after a class”

He bit his lip deviously, smirking widely still “So you are stalking me, is that it?”

“Merlin, no!” She breathed out exasperated and ran a hand through her face. She glared daggers at him then “Where are you getting with this?”

He threw a cynical smile at her, which fell soon after, the he leaned towards her.

“Say, Hermione, did you brew a love potion recently?”

Her eyes narrowed as if she was about to ask him what kind of question was that out of a sudden.

“No, logically not” She replied, letting out a soft chuckle at the absurd question.

Tom’s hand moved to grip the back of the couch, he straightened his neck to look at her firmly and directly.

“Perhaps got some smuggled from _Madam Primpernelle's_?” He pressed.

“What the bloody…?” She shook her head “What are you going on about, Riddle?” Hermione was by now confused and angry. She leaned towards him as well, facing his strange questions.

He pursed his lips and smiled cruelly at her “Why, Hermione. I am going on about you dousing me with a love potion, because I see no other reason to smell _you_ on the Amortentia I brewed the week before!”


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione stared at him with mouth agape for what it felt an eternity.

Tom Riddle. Tom Riddle smelling _Amortentia_. _Tom Riddle_ smelling _her_ on Amortentia.

That must be some kind of sick joke.

He was staring at her with a poker face, gone was his smirk. She imagined he was strangling her on his mind.

Never in a million years she would have imagined that she would encounter herself in that situation. That was a whole new level even for someone who had, for still undiscovered reason, travelled back into the past. The past with the young dark lord as a schoolboy, no less. How utterly adorable.

Through all this time she had been in the past – a year and a half – She had been capable of avoiding him or his interest. When she arrived, it was mid summer. With the money on her precious beaded bag, she was able to rent a room in a cozy little inn and trace her routes. The first few days were greatly stressing for her. She had cried for a whole day intermittently, thinking how she was well and truly fucked, how she missed her friends and family and how in the world she was to go back. Her distress only grew as she first started thinking of a plan, for all of them messed with memory pampering, false documents and lies.

So, so many lies.

It drove her crazy sometimes, but she still thought Hogwarts was her best shot on going back to her own time. With that in mind, Hermione made all the preparations and got back to Hogwarts as a previous home-schooled half-blood witch. She decided it was best if she entered as a sixth year – she was too old to pass as a younger student and still she wanted all the time possible with access to Hogwarts knowledge sources.

As a pupil she decided to maintain a focused and reserved persona. Never calling attention to herself on purpose – as her previous self would, answering questions and writing three scrolls essays when the required was one – but keeping the outstanding grades Hermione Granger supposed to. It was her plan B: if she still could not find a way back with Hogwarts help, she would graduate and work in the Department of Mysteries. For that, she was required to have good results at school, hence her presence on the Slug club – a plus, for she would get to know people of the ministry. She just decided not to participate on the duels club, it would call too much attention to herself, opting to continue her training on the room of requirement.

Talking about attention, Hermione was not that a popular individual on 1940’s Hogwarts. Granted, many knew her because she was intelligent and now Head girl, and she get on well enough with many students, but only three to really call friends.

Now, Riddle. She made sure to never get in his way more than necessary.

It was strange to have the darkest wizard of all time as her schoolmate. He was intelligent, eloquent and very charming. Words that were very hard to associate with the person of Voldemort.

There were several times where she had to talk to him briefly, twice that she had to work with him on potions and ancient runes. Hermione was completely civil to him, despite his nefarious future self and knowing that at his age he was already pretty much a psychopath – actually the reason she acted as a normal person around him, she didn’t want to appear dead in the morning. To explain him smelling her on Amortentia? She honestly did not have a single clue.

“Cat got your tongue, Hermione?”

His baritone voice seemed to thunderstruck her. She blinked and inhaled deeply, before sighing and shaking her head slowly.

“Merlin…” Hermione massaged her forehead “Why would I ever douse you with a love potion?” She let her hand fall and stared at him, mouth a thin line.

His eyebrows raised and he looked at her as if it was obvious “I thought we had come to an agreement that you have the not so healthy habit of stalking me”

“What?” The girl shrieked “Good grief, Riddle” She ran a hand through her wild hair

He narrowed his eyes and leaned closer to her again “Do not,” He stressed “Try to lie. You said yourself that you watch as I reject a girl every week”

 _Two girls a week._ It was fun, in a bizarre kind of way, to watch, she had to admit. Never would she think that the monster she knew from the future was a handsome heartbreaker in the past.

“Let’s be honest here alright” She raised a hand, palm turned to him “I never speak to you, I never giggle absurdly when you are close, neither do I blush when you talk or look at me. I do nothing like the girls who are attracted to you” She nodded with raised eyebrows “Therefore, I am _not_ interested” She breathed deeply again “Really, you can relax. It must be something that went wrong with the potion. Gods,” She laughed to herself, planting her hand on her forehead “You are the last person I would get interested in”

Her smile fell. That was a bit too much, and by the look on his face when she caught his gaze, he was not pleased.

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?” He snarled, barely contained.

“I-” She scrambled in her mind, almost panicking for making him angry “I’m interested in someone else already, that’s the reason”

His head tilted, eyes attentive and very dark. She gulped when a switch seemed to be turned on his mind.

“Oh?” He voiced dryly. She shivered. His fingers curled around the back of the couch strongly.

“Yeah” Hermione squeaked, hands on her lap “So, I’m pretty tired. I’m retiring for the night, okay?”

She stiffly rose up and stopped to stare at him for a few seconds. He was thrown back sideways on the couch, his other hand rested lightly on his thigh. He eyed her with a curious gaze, like a snake observing its little rat - soon to be dinner. His smooth, pale lips were slightly parted. The fingers on his thigh flickered twice, one after the other.

Hermione was a very honest person with herself, so she could admit that he looked absolutely dashing watching her from beneath, behind hooded charcoal eyes. Of course she dismissed the thought. She was honest, not dumb. It was very dangerous to let herself catch eye of the young dark lord, almost as dangerous as be caught by his own.

“Goodnight, Riddle” She spoke and turned in a hurry to flee.

She heard his chuckle as she was at the feet of the stairs to her room.

“Call me Tom, Hermione!” He called from the common room, possibly still on the couch. She just kept walking.

*w*

Tom watched the wild haired witch by his own desk on the second row of charms class. It had been three days since he confronted Hermione on their common room. He had been… _disappointed_ to hear that she had not spiced his drink with a love potion, for he still felt sparks every time she passed by him. She, on the other hand, avoided him like the plague.

He thought maybe it was someone else’s prank. He ordered his knights to seek for a culprit. They could not find one, so he made them all pass through a _legillimency_ trial – who said that it was not one of his own who wanted to make him look like a fool? Fortunately, for them, the prankster was not in between their group.  

His jaw twitched and he gripped his feather harder. Maybe something had gone wrong with the potion like Hermione said? A thread of her hair that stick to his uniform and ended on the concoction? He had spoken to her briefly not much before he went to brew it, after all.

Or maybe Hermione was lying.

The Professor then gave them instructions to the practice of the class. They were to work in pairs, exercising a combo of _Ascendio_ and _Arresto Momentum_ to rise up then to slow the fall of the cube he had conjured in front of each two students.

He moved to work with Nott. In two minutes he was done, not bothering if his partner wanted to practice more. The shaggy haired boy was one of his knights, he understood that his lord would not waste his time to teach him petty charms. He rolled his eyes as he saw Goyle get his head struck by the cube as he failed to correctly cast the charm.

His orbs moved to Hermione once again. She was working with Black on the row in front of him. His eyebrow raised at the over enthusiasm of his follower. He narrowed his eyes as she smiled warmly at the young man and rose the dark cube to the air with a swirl of her wand and the pronunciation of the charm. Black countered her with a smirk and slowed the object, which then landed softly on their table.

 _Nice!_ He heard her say to him and chuckle after. They continued to practice and talked animatedly whilst. Tom found himself to be very unamused with the interaction for some reason. Could it be that Black was the one individual Hermione was interested on? He thought it was that Potter boy, the Gryffindor Quidditch player who she wandered around with.

The young dark lord sighed and rested back on his sit, twirling his feather between his fingers. Such puny things to think about. It was not like him to lose time on gossip. He should really forget all about this strange incident and move on with his important plans. Her enchantment, if he could call it like he actually could be enchanted by someone, was bound to disappear with time.

*w*

_Two weeks later_

Tom swallowed hardly as he sat beside Hermione on the prefect and Head’s meeting. He was quite sure that the effects of whatever potion someone drugged him with weeks ago should now have passed. Therefore, why he still felt like she was under his skin?

His hand clenched an unclenched as it rested on his thigh. He had been avoiding her as much as she avoided him. He tried his best to keep his mind distracted, even more when she was close to him, but his gaze always ended on her. It was not helping that they had most classes together and also shared a bloody common room.

The scent of the potion unleashed something distinct to him, if he had to be honest to himself. If he had to analyze, he had a deep desire to rake his fingers through her chestnut colored hair and bury his nose on its roots, to breathe in and feel her scent on its source.

Tom bit his cheek. He had to do something about this aching crave on his gut.

*w*

It was evening. He was sat down on his bed with a pair of dark grey flannel pants. A small flask with a pearl pink potion inside was the aim of his dark gaze. He was very unsure, if it was even possible for Tom Riddle to be unsure of something, about what he was going to do. Deep in his mind, he loathed himself for recurring to such a despising potion. However, he tried not to think of it, for he needed to satiate this desire stuck on him.

And Tom never turned down his own desires, nor did he let anything stop him from satiating them.

He extended his hand towards the nightstand, his pale fingers wrapping slowly around the glass. Sliding back and resting his nude backs against the headboard, he brought the potion close to him. His onyx gaze sparkled as he inspected the viscous liquid for a while. He felt a clench on his navel in anticipation when he shook the flask slightly and the concoction stirred in milky waves.

Without another thought, he pulled the cork off. Instantly, the scents hit him in an overwhelming stream. He gasped with the sensation. Absent minded, he brought the flask to his nose and took a deep breath. A jolt of electricity seemed to run through his body and coil in his loins.

Sweet Salazar. That felt _too good._

His other hand, previously splayed on his chest, started its route downwards. He felt his skin going wet with sweat as his palm ran over his abdomen. Another breath in, the flask glued to his nose, his eyeballs rolled up, toes curling. He squirmed as his hand reached his navel and could feel his cock twitch with desire.

Tom tried not to think of how much of _her_ the scents that invaded him were. He tried not to imagine her: creamy arms around his neck, feline legs straddling his hips, round and soft ass just straight ahead to his vision, smooth breasts flush to his chest and caramel locks covering his mouth as she buried her nose on his neck and whispered dirty little secrets to him.

Clearly, he was failing. Miserably.

He couldn’t help but moan deeply when his hand reached his crotch under his pants. He was up and hard at that point. With hasty movements, he pushed the garb down and stared at his manhood enveloped by his own hand. He imagined her delicate hand instead of his, completely absorbed in his lust.

The potion worked just like a drug. He seemed high, lost in his own desire. Each breath bringing him further into his own fantasies. He could hear her sweet chuckle just beside his ear, one he had heard many times, but which was never directed to him. He wanted her to laugh to him deliciously, naughtily, _only him, always him._

Another hoarse moan echoed in the luxurious room of the Slytherin Head boy when he stroked himself softly. He panted deeply by now and moved his hand up and down his cock. All he could see was his beautiful Hermione eyeing him directly with hypnotic amber gaze as she caressed his manhood, gathering the precum oozing from him with a light stroke of a slender finger on his tip.

He heard himself whisper her name softly as he threw his head back into the headboard in ecstasy. He hissed and opened his mouth to breathe. Her scents burned his airways, his hand squeezed his shaft harder, making his hips thrust up in response. The coil on his navel tightened further.

He breathed quicker now, trying to drown in the fragrance of the potion, the fragrance of Hermione. It wasn’t enough, he needed more. He decided with not much thinking to pour the potion on his head.

The pearl liquid cascaded down his face, drenching his perfect jet black hair and coloring his skin soft pink as it ran down. Tom restrained the moan that came with the rush of desire that pooled on his core, as to not let the potion inside his mouth – he didn’t want to get himself intoxicated and therefore infatuated with the next girl that entered his line of vision.

The sensation was positively glorious. He was enveloped in the scents. When the viscous potion slithered to his chest, he let himself moan loudly, stroking himself strongly and thrusting in rhythm. Drips fell from his fringe to his forehead, one ran down his straight elegant nose directing to his lips. He didn’t move to brush the drop. The sensation was that of a feather on his lips and when it reached his tongue he was momentarily out of breath.

Would that be the taste of his witch?

With that thought, he came. Tom couldn’t even make a sound at how hard his orgasm hit him. He kept on massaging himself like automatically. His cock jerking as the white secretion spurt out of it in jets that covered his hand, bed and pants.

It felt like eternity when he finally came down of the high he rose up to. He panted like he had run a marathon. His dark gaze lazily turned down, seeing his somewhat chiseled chest covered in pink pearl liquid and his legs in his milky semen. He let his head fall back into his pillow with a deep sigh.

How low was that woman able to bring him?

*w*

  _Two weeks later_

Tom felt like an _Euphoria Elixir_ addicted. Three times already he used Slughorn’s lab to produce small doses of _A_ mortentia for him to get high on, seeing that twice he was so drown in lust that, again, he poured the potion on himself. He couldn’t get enough of the sensation the concoction brought him.

He thought maybe he could disperse his attraction to Hermione Granger like that. A few days more and he would be satiated enough to go back to focus only on his plans.

*w*

_One week later_

On contrary of what he thought, his routine of pleasuring himself only fueled his desire for the wild haired witch.

He wanted more. He craved more. He decided he had to have his witch.

He threw his plan to stay away from her out the window completely and started to get close to her. Try, at least. Hermione was, to put in palpable words, absolutely _skittish_ around him. She would always widen her eyes and look slightly distressed when he approached her. She would answer him politely and speak only the necessary, never bringing subjects up to have an actual conversation with him. The only times he could get her to talk a little more was at night, on their common room.

That truly annoyed him. Even other students had started to notice he tried to approach her several times. She would always come up with an excuse and run swiftly away from him, or to her friends.

His eyelid twitched. Or to _Black_.

He did not give two fucks if the boy was the supposed one Hermione said to be interested on, as she had told him that first night he approached her for thinking she had doused him with a love potion.

He chuckled to himself darkly. Things sure twisted around. Now he was dousing himself almost daily with _Amortentia_ vapors.

However, tides were turning his side, thankfully. He smirked slyly to himself as he let himself rest back on the comfortable armchair on his room.

Oh, the joy he felt when he caught her checking him on a night, some days ago, as he spoke to her. He had purposefully left his tie loose and a few buttons of his shirt open as he approached her on their common room. He could feel her gaze on the exposed skin of his collar as they talked. He could feel her unease, but for an entire different reason.

Subconsciously, she seemed to open up to him a little that day. Aside his desire for her, he always enjoyed their conversations, as short as they were sometimes. She was a truly brilliant woman and he saw that side of her even more that night. They spoke about spells, counter curses, herbology, astronomy. Her mind, he discovered, was even more marvelous than he anticipated, and he was even more fascinated by her.

Maybe that was the invisible rope that pulled him towards her in the first place, along with the mysterious air she evoked. She was so very much like him. She had bold plans, she was powerful, she was smart. Being so, the rope was unnoticeably pulling her towards him as well. Moreover, even that she, supposedly, fancied Black, and even if she was wary of him for whatever reason – one that he still was going to discover someday -  her interest was turning to him now.

He fully intended to explore that.

*w*

_Two days later_

Hermione spoke the password aloud to the gargoyle, which instantly opened to her. The day had been awfully tiring to her, culminating in rounds that evening with Lestrange, which had been terrible due to the boy’s dismissing and irritated mood.

She was massaging her forehead when she reached the common room, only then noticing the fire cracking on the fireplace. She almost groaned to herself and looked up. For sure Riddle was sat down comfortably on the couch by the fire. A leg was thrown over his opposite knee, his hand with a book resting atop it, while his other arm was lazily resting along the back of the sofa.

Hermione sighed. _Why, Godric,_ must he be so beautiful?

And intelligent, and interesting, and charming, and goddamn good at everything?

For some reason she did not fully understand yet, he had been trying to get close to her starting a week prior. She had been very worried on the first days of his advances, for she wondered if he had found something about her past or suspected she knew something about him. To her own surprise, sort of, he was a very pleasant person to talk to. Hermione never really had the chance to know someone who reached her level of passion for knowledge to have deeper conversations. Granted there were very smart people on her time, and on this one as well, but he was just _different_.

He seemed perfect in all aspects.

It scared her that she enjoyed speaking to him. It scared even more when she started to enjoy the way his dark eyes watched her from afar. It was no news to her that Voldemort was a very charismatic and manipulative individual, even more at his younger days, so it was very dangerous to feel that way about him.

For this, it absolutely terrified her when his onyx orbs moved and she met his heated gaze, speeding her heartbeat up so much it ached.

“Good evening, Hermione” He spoke, closing his book and placing it beside him to have his full attention on her. Hermione shivered at his call.

“Good evening, Tom” She replied, gulping softly. Spelling his first name always brought a sour yet interesting taste on her mouth, but he insisted that she stopped calling him _Riddle_ “What are you doing up so late?”

He watched predatorily as she moved to put down her bag. Her heart felt like about to come out through her mouth.

“I was waiting for you” He answered, tilting his head “I do appreciate our nightly talks”

Hermione felt like jolt of lighting struck her when he slowly stood up. Her mind was stuck between running to her dorm and melting into a puddle.

“T-thanks. I do as well,” She stuttered, feeling her face heat up when he was finally standing just in front of her “But, you see, today was really tiring and-“

He stopped her with a click of his tongue as she started motioning with her hand. Hermione stood on edge as a soft smirk took form on his mouth.

“Are you putting up excuses to run away from me again?” He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, sounding playful. Coming from him, evilly playful.

“No!” The witch jolted. She for sure didn’t want to end on his bad side “No, really, today was awful… I’m sorry” Her hand came to her temple and she looked aside.

Her heart made a loop when she felt long fingers circling her chin. She encountered his dark orbs on her way when he coaxed her to look up.

“Why are you so afraid of me, Hermione?” He purred her name, slowly petting her jaw side to side with his thumb.

“I-“ She started, but a sudden intake of air cut her when his other hand found her waist. It curved against her body, eliciting several shivers up her spine.

He started to push her softly back against the wall. Her subconscious kept asking why she was letting him maneuver her like a puppeteer, but she just couldn’t listen to it when he had his velvety hands on her. She blushed and his smirk widened, showing a row of pearl white teeth that would leave her parents proud. His smugness cleared her head somewhat and she looked at him firmly, as intimidating as her colored cheek allowed her to appear.

“I…I’m not afraid of you, but I’m wary of the mask you wear, Tom Riddle” She answered, noticing how his hand froze on her cheek “It bothers me that I can see that the person you show is not the same of the inside”

Maybe that way he would leave her be. Or maybe he would finally kill her.

Hermione stared at him calmly as he watched her with a meditative expression.

“Would you like to see the real me, Hermione?” He whispered. His eyes searched hers, flashing with something wild she couldn’t describe.

She licked her lips, he watched with reptilian precision the path of the wet muscle.

“I’m not sure” She answered truthfully.

He laughed deeply. It was a rich, delicious tone that seemed to drop a weight in her belly. His hand squeezed her waist and brought her closer to him.

“Tell me, Hermione” He spoke, his hand on her chin ran through her jaw to rest in the roots of her hair, he gripped the threads gently “Are you infatuated with Black?”

Hermione frowned at his idea. Why did teenage boys always thought you fancied some bloke just because you hang out around school with him? Christ, Orion reminded her of Sirius, and Sirius meant home to her, it was the main reason they ended up developing a friendship

“Of course not” She answered as it was the most basic fact in the world.

She could catch satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.

“Are you actually interested in one of our classmates?” He asked, his hand starting to massage her scalp.

Hermione stood quiet for some time.  Tom raised an eyebrow and quirked his head slightly, urging her to answer.

“…No” She spoke so low she thought he wouldn’t hear. His smirk told her he did. She wondered why she told him the truth.

“And” His voice dropped an octave, as if his baritone wasn’t marvelous already. He lowered his head and pulled her head closer, so his mouth was just by her ear “Do you like how I am making you feel?”

Blaze seemed to erupt in her core. He nipped her earlobe, she could feel the smirk on his lips.

“Do not lie, Hermione” He told her in a tone one would use to chastise a child.

Her face felt filled with fire. She was melting like iron on a boiler. A wet sensation on her ear, he had licked the skin just behind it.

“Yes” She let out in a breathy tone, unconsciously leaning towards him.

Tom hummed in approval and his hand swiped more vigorously through her hair.

“You are being so honest, darling” He praised as he brushed his lips on her neck “I cannot help but reciprocate such a gift” He placed a soft kiss on her skin. She gritted her teeth. He backed up so he was staring her straight in the eyes “Do you know what I have been doing these past weeks routinely?”

Hermione just stared at him and waited for him to continue. At that moment she noticed her hands were splayed on his chest.

“I’ve been brewing Amortentia on Slughorn’s lab” He told her, as if he was reciting a story. His hand at her waist started to go downwards “I’ve been dousing myself on its scents quite regularly” His hand reached her thigh and reversed its path, going up beneath her skirt “I’ve been pleasuring myself to the potion”

She felt her knees go weak. He couldn’t possibly mean that he…?

“If you remember our first night of talking, my divine fragrance is you, Hermione” His eyes flashed, he closed the distance between them so their lips brushed. His hand gently stroked her behind. “I have been imagining you while I come into my hand. I have been imagining the taste of your essence as I sample a drop of the potion”

Hermione was by now dead. How was she to survive him talking to her like that? He was an incubus incarnated. He absolutely could not be the same snake monstrosity of her future. Honestly, at that moment she couldn’t even think about it, she could barely remember her own name. All she could see, hear and feel was that intoxicating man in front of her.

His lips descended to meet hers but stopped when her hands moved, ascending until they rested on each side of his neck. He watched closely as she bit her bottom lip before she leaned forward, standing on the tip of her toes, and spoke by the foot of his ear.

“You don’t have to just imagine it anymore, Tom”

She only heard him grunt before he pressed her strongly against the wall. Tom gripped her hair harshly and bend her head backwards, before sealing his mouth with hers. His lips were terribly smooth, his tongue unforgiving as it instantly pushed its way into her mouth.

The young dark lord was ruthless on his kiss, barely giving her room to make her own moves. He explored every inch of her mouth with uncontrolled passion. He licked the inside of her cheek, then his tongue swept against her teeth, before he retreated to grip her bottom lip in between his incisive. She, in reaction, let her mouth fall open in a soft moan, as her hands grasped his ebony hair at the nape of his neck. He promptly resumed their kiss, inflamed by her responsiveness.

His hands by now had ran to grab the cheeks of her ass. He squeezed and pulled towards him in rhythm with a few thrusts of his hips. Lava pooled in her core when she felt his clothed erection push against her cunt, only covered by her thin cotton panties. He once again left her lips to bite her at the junction of her shoulder and neck. Hermione sung his monosyllabic name, making his head swirl.

“My clever witch, your voice is perfection” He whispered into her skin. She held him tighter and arched towards him in response.

Tom gasped and raised her up by her thighs, eliciting a low yelp from her. He gave two steps backwards before turning to go straight ahead. Hermione’s mind was clouded by his kisses on her collarbone, but she could notice her was taking them to his dorm. There was a flick of a thought that screamed that she was about to fuck bloody Lord Voldemort. She should be horrified that he would be her first. It would probably come back to haunt her how easily she dismissed both thoughts.

He talked so much about her scents, but his were mind blowing. They assaulted her senses when they entered his room. The fresh mint and pinewood surrounded the atmosphere, well fit with the green Slytherin decoration.

Shortly, he was placing her on the bed. He straddled her and started undoing the buttons of her shirt at the same time he placed swift kisses through her neck. Her hands pawed his shirt, trying to take it off, her lips for times meeting with his mouth as he ventured her skin.

They were only on their undergarments when Tom cupped her mound. They gasped against each other’s mouth, breaking their kiss. He rested his forehead on hers and stroked her with firm movements. She squirmed and arched beneath him. Tom was playing her like he would a lute. He let his fingers slip beneath her drenched panties and parted her nether lips, gathering her moisture on his digits. Hermione felt a new rush of heat and moaned throwing her head to the side at the same time she pulled his face against her neck.

Tom grinned in satisfaction against her skin. He plunged his fingers on her, moving inside and out twice before he rose slightly and brought his hand to his mouth. He made sure that she watched as he wrapped his lips around his fingers and sucked them clean.

“So wet and so delicious, dearest” He purred, his onyx orbs gleaming with lust.

The said witch could come right then and there.

She made her eagerness clear when her own hands travelled down his abdomen and beneath his boxers, her palms meeting the wet skin of his manhood. She felt him go stiff above her, his breath caught on his lungs, she bit her lip at the wonderful sensation her power over him brought her. A second and a muttered spell later, the rest of their clothes disappeared.

The direct contact of his palm on her cunt left her temporarily out of action. He was cold, contrasting with her lava hot skin. His mouth descended to her breasts, enveloping a nipple. She let out a choked cry as he plunged a finger on her again. He worked her with precision, stealing moans that reverberated through his room.

Her hands crushed him against her chest as he moved to her other breast. His hair was soft like silk as her fingers, suddenly running to his head, buried themselves and tugged his ebony locks. She was rocking against his hand, whining and spreading her legs to him. She needed more. She needed him. A last, faint voice warned her that it was to _Tom Riddle_ who she was about to beg to fuck her.

She felt relieved that she was deaf to the world. So she begged to him like a slut and did not have any second thoughts about it.

Tom moaned in response to her pleads, satisfied to oblige.

His eyes found hers and he kept their gazes locked as he drove into her. He took a sharp intake of breath and she gasped deeply at the distinct yet wonderful sensation of him entering her. Her muscles clenched so tightly around him, trying to pull him further in but also making it harder for him to progress. Tom pushed a little more, letting out a guttural groan against her cheek, where his mouth now rested. She felt a piercing pain when he reached a point and her nails buried on the back of his neck.

In spite of the pain and the lustful haze she found herself in, she was surprised that Tom stopped. Hermione never thought the _Dark Lord_ would care that she was in pain in middle of their coitus. She would think he would just keep going, minding only his own pleasure. It was one of the few moments she was happy to be mistaken.

He made a soft move to test her reaction. Tom was panting hard by now, his minty breath fanning her face. In order to signal him to move, she placed a hand on his middle back, pulling him onto her, and bit his neck. He understood and pulled out almost completely before sheathing himself on her entirely. She couldn’t decide which was more delicious: his moan or the way his cock felt buried within her.

Hermione cried out when he moved out and in a second time. She wrapped her legs around him and started to meet his thrusts. Tom placed a hand on her back and brought her flush against him. Her boobs were smashed against his pectorals at how tight he held her. He kissed her after she emitted another sound, his other hand gripping a creamy thigh and pulling her against him as he rolled his hips against her.

She chanted his name when he hit a special spot inside her. Her eyelids opened halfway to look at him. He was even more beautiful from that view. His once perfect hair was disheveled, a jet black curl stuck to his wet forehead. His pale skin was covered in sweat, eyes gleaming and hazed by desire as they watched her back.

His pace turned more erratic. He pounded into her with vigor, entering her all the way, but retreating quickly as well. She imagined he had the same feeling of rising, trying to reach something, the pleasure consuming her, but not quite reaching it yet. Hermione threw her head backwards, nails digging on his shoulders. Tom buried his head on her neck, panting harshly. The feeling was so consuming by now that she did not know if she asked him to stop or to keep going.

She heard Tom let out a low growl, then he bit down her skin.

“ _Scream for me, Hermione_ ” He whispered hotly.

His tone _per se_ made her whole world twist. She did just as she was told and screamed as she came. The bliss seemed endless, it was glorious, and his incessant thrusts only prolonged it. Tom’s fingers dug into the smooth flesh of her ass, almost to the point of bruising. When he threw his head back and let out a delighted long moan she knew he had reached his completion. He was so dark and perfect, an evil angel. His essence spilled into her in warm jets that left a strange yet good sensation inside her.

It took a couple more moments for him to get down his high. He slowly descended towards her and rested above her, his head on her bosom. It was indescribably good to feel the weight of his body on her. As they panted, exhausted, his hands caressed her thigh – her legs were still loosely tied around him - and waist sluggishly. She, on the other hand, watched him in daze and ran her palms through his beautiful black wavy hair, trying desperately not to let the alarms of her head make into her ears.

“Stay with me”

Hermione heard him say against her skin before he raised his head so their eyes locked. She tried to brush aside the fact that his gaze emanated possessiveness and obsession.

His hand cupped her jaw “I want to be cloaked in your scent as I sleep”.

Her mind seemed to warn her the no turning back, dangerous line he was tracing right there.

She brought his mouth down to hers in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that the authors are revealed I can speak some! haha
> 
> Man, it was tricky to write a younger Tom, even more from his point of view! I had to be very careful not to stray from his personality. Definitely different from writing an older couterpart like in my oneshot. It was very interesting :)
> 
> I felt like I couldn't explore Hermione that much since I was viewing the world mostly from Tom's eyes, but I tried to express how I think she would react in a time travel situation. It's something I always wanted to toy with and I was left with the taste of wanting more :) maybe I'll invest on that.
> 
> Glad so many enjoyed it and hope more will do so! :D


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